Realizations
by Weskette
Summary: The first time he really notices how much time they spend together, it's when she hands him his newly sharpened knife.


**Wrote this up on a whim.**

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**Realizations**

The first time he really notices how much time they spend together, it's when she hands him his newly sharpened knife. He had realized it was dull some days before and had thought he'd need to fix that. When she had randomly asked if she could see it, noticing the same thing he did, he simply handed it over. When it returned to him, good as new, he'd realized that they had spent almost every day in each other's company. She goes hunting with him, he goes fishing with her. She sits next to him at dinner. He goes out of his way to talk to her. It's something that he doesn't really understand. Sure, he's had friends before. His best buddy in highschool had been around him a lot. But Andrea was different.

He drops himself into the seat besides hers at the fire and barely glances over. She's fine with it, as always. She actually prefers it.

They end up talking, just like they usually do. Soon enough, the others by the fire join in and everyone is talking. Carl's in bed and Lori isn't there, so they can speak freely. They share stories about the past that take place in the old world. T-Dog tells about a stunt he and his friends did when he was a teen. It involved three bikes, a lake and an angry raccon. Andrea ups his story with a case she fought in court. Originally a civil rights case, it changed into a murder investigation and the defendent had kept her on as a lawyer. She had won.

Everyone continues on until late. Slowly, the people by the fire diminish, going to bed, until it's back down to Andrea and Daryl. She looks over at him, a smile on her face. "I'm gonna head to bed," she speaks, standing up. "Good night." She walks by him, lightly touching his shoulder.

After she's a few feet away, he manages to reply. "G'night, blondie." He rubs a hand over the spot she touched but the feeling doesn't go away. Eventually, he gets up and returns to his tent, falling asleep.

It's when they take watch together that he realizes how smart she is. He doesn't much care for the hardass lawyer side of her, but he likes the friendly side of her that seems to like him too. They talk and laugh together, talking about their common loss: siblings.

Andrea tells him a story about Amy's first steps when Andrea was fourteen and Amy was two. The young Amy had stood up, using the table for balance, before simply stepping over to her older sister, grabbing the cookie out of her hand and walking away, as though she had been walking her whole life.

Daryl told of Merle's tendency to forget what happened while he was drunk. One night, the brutish older brother had woken up in bed with a man, and Daryl never let him hear the end of it. What made it funnier was that the man had been black, and Merle made it very apparent that he didn't like anyone who wasn't caucasian.

It's when they're on the road again that he realizes how close they've become. She's hugging to him on the back of his motorcycle. They're on a scouting mission, checking ahead for any walkers or anything else unplanned. He feels her arms tight around him, her chin pressing to his shoulder. He realizes how okay he is with her proximity and tries not to think about it. But everybody knows that if you try not to think about something, you're just more likely to. He spends the rest of the day thinking about it, about her. He tries to deny it but his mind won't let him. Andrea's broken through the outer shell he had to protect himself. With her on the inside, with him, it's even harder to not notice her. He can't help but breath deep everytime she's close and try to hold in her scent, that intoxicating scent that reminds him of a rainy day in the forest.

She rides in his truck when they travel and sits in the passenger seat besides him. At times, when they drive at night, she curls up on her side, the upper part of her torso and her head spilling into the center seat that seperates them and almost into his lap. Her blond hair, a soft golden under moonlight, pools around her head and he can't help but want to comb his fingers through it. He restrains himself, knowing that if he ignores it, the want will fade. It doesn't.

It's when they're looting a house together, he finds she's worth more to him than he could have ever imagined a girl could be.

She opens a closet and pulls out a man's shirt, turning to face him. "You want this?" she asks, holding it up. Before he can get a word out, a hand reaches from within the closet, grabbing her shoulder, yanking her back towards a hungry mouth. She lets out a small shriek of surprise as she falls backward, but by then, the walker has a bolt protruding from it's skull. Adrenaline pumps through her veins as she stumbles away from the closet.

He's by her side, checking to make sure she's not hurt. "You okay?" he mumbles, kneeling by her. She nods, slowing her breath.

"I'm fine. I'll make it." He helps her up, and picks the shirt she offered off the floor. He's good at hiding how scared he had been that she might be bit. He shoves the shirt into his bag and tilts his head to her, thanking her for the shirt.

It's after they lose Carol that he realizes he should get his ass in gear and confess to Andrea. Carol's loss, a suicide, had been sudden. He had never expected his mother figure to die in just the same way his real mother had. He realizes that any day now he could lose anyone, even Andrea.

But he neglects telling her. She shows up at his tent, tears starting in her eyes and simply curls up besides him. He needs comfort just as much so he pulls her against him. She silently sobs against his chest and he presses a kiss to her forehead. "S'alright, doll. S'alright," he murmurs, hating her pain.

Days later, Carol's grave miles away, he sits down close besides her. She doesn't question it, simply lets it happen. They only sit in silence. It's a day long silence, one that they both appreciate. It allows them to think.

It's another twenty miles away when they settle at an abandoned house at night, when she approaches him, a fire in her eyes.

"Daryl?"

"What's up, blondie?"

She looks frustrated for a moment. She's thought about this for a long time. She's lost her friends, parents, Amy and Dale. She had no idea if she should follow through with the plan she had thought up. But the world is over and well, what else does she have to lose?

He finds his lips being assaulted, her own soft two against his. He kisses back, finding this sudden surprise quite enjoyable. She deepens the kiss, exploring his mouth. After awhile, breathlessness sets in and they pull away.

They start something new and welcome. No one really notices the looks they give each other or just how close they stand together. They don't hold hands, not often. It's more than what they're used to. Neither are comfortable showing too much affection when the others are around. At most, they might sit beside each other, their arms brushing and their sides together.

Daryl finds himself able to brush through her hair with his fingers, loving the touch of her blond locks. She smiles when he does this, murmuring that it feels nice. He plays with her hair until she falls asleep.

It's after Daryl's disappearance that the group discovers their relationship.

He goes hunting and doesn't come back. After three days, he returns, a large deer on his shoulders. He drops it and is jumped by Andrea who is quick to kiss him hard on the lips, chastising him for being gone so long.

The others seem to freeze at this, not expecting their resident tough chick to go for the hick with a crossbow. But the relationship is welcomed. They congradulated the two as if they had just been married. But in the zombie apocalypse, it was the closest they could get.

It's when she learns she's pregnant that she becomes afraid. She's afraid of his reaction to the news. She doesn't know if he'll want the baby, not when the world was shit.

She can picture them as a family in the old world. The strong, overprotective husband he'd be, helping her to raise their children, teaching them how to be brave.

It's when she tells him that she's pregnant that he learns what fear is. Not fear of responsibility. He would shoulder the responsibility no matter what the cost. What scares him is the chance that she could be hurt, or their child could.

He curls up around her that night, holding her close and kissing a line along her neck. He murmurs promises into her ear that he'll protect them. She knows that each promise is for forever, that nothing will happen as long as he's alive.

It's when the group finds out about her pregnancy that he realizes he's got more of a family than he's ever had before.

Everyone congratulates them. They get old clothes from Lori's baby, Glenn finds diapers at an old store and T-Dog salvages up an old carseat from an abandoned car. They can't use any of it yet, but they will.

Daryl's not use to this level of attention, and he's sure it's the same for Andrea. All the women, Maggie, Lori, Beth, and Michonne(a woman they had picked up after leaving the farmhouse) go up to Andrea at some point, requesting to feel her stomach, even though the baby isn't kicking yet. She's showing, but not excessively. It's a small bump that, in the old world, wouldn't have been acknowledged. But in the new world, it's a miracle. The fact that they haven't seen a walker in a long while just makes them feel better.

It's when they settle at a house when he feels the baby kick for the first time. It's a huge thing, him feeling his child kick at his palms through Andrea's skin. It makes hope grow inside that there's a chance. He wraps around her while they lay in bed, a hand on her stomach, delighted everytime he feels the child move. She smiles at him, a hand pressed over his. "I love you, Daryl," she mumbles. It's not the first time she's said it, but certainly just as important.

"Love you too, babe," he murmurs in her ear. They fall asleep this way.

It's when she goes into labour that he nearly breaks his hand.

Well. _She_nearly breaks his hand.

Andrea grips it as hard as she can. Daryl cringes as she does but stays besides her. A contraction racks her body and she somehow manages to squeeze his hand even harder. He swears but kisses her forehead. "I'm here for ya', doll."

There's a pause in the contractions that barely lasts a minute; a minute long span which is filled with her cursing under her breath at him. He snickers and, in return, she slaps his arm with all the strength she can muster, which, luckily for him, isn't much. The contractions start up again and she grits her teeth.

It's when he's holding his newborn daughter in his arms that he's overwhelmed. The nameless child falls asleep as her parents look at her. Andrea and Daryl look down on their child, both smiling.

"We didn't think much on names," the ex-lawyer says in a tired manner.

"I think you should do it," he murmurs in her ear.

"Are you sure?" The hick nods and kisses her again. "Then you're picking her middle name." Andrea sits in silence, holding her child. After a while, the nameless baby wakes, opening her eyes sleepily. She looks up at her mother with big blue eyes. "Haley." Daryl had been expecting the name to be Amy. The explanation comes in the next sentance. "It was Amy's middle name."

"You okay with Sophia bein' her middle name?" Daryl asks.

"Of course..."

It's as he watches Haley grow that he realizes that they'll make it. She says her first word at the age of two. "Dada!" She grows up looking like Andrea and hunting like Daryl. The remaining people in the group settle in a small but growing town. Andrea, Daryl, Haley, Rick, Carl, T-Dog, and Glenn. The remaining family.

When Haley's six, Andrea's pregnant again. It's a boy. Little Chris M. Dixon. When he's four, he goes to school. It's been ten years since Andrea and Daryl met each other, fought through the apocolypse, and their children are in school.

Daryl realizes they have made it.


End file.
